Art Class
by WhatVoiceOfReason
Summary: Mandatory art classes are now being held for Central military personnel in order to encourage "team bonding." Ed realized that he might be a genius in science, but he doesn't know a thing about painting. Parental Roy and Ed


**Hi there!**

**So this is what I did instead of my homework….**

**Disclaimers:**

**-this is my first fanfic, so it kinda sucks...**

**- please forgive my horribly fake military memo and the slightly OOC people**

**-and oh yeah, I don't own FMA (shocker!)**

**Now onward with the story!**

**ATTENTION ALL CENTRAL MILITARY PERSONNEL**

AS OF SEPTEMBER 17TH, UNDER FUHRER PRESIDENT BRADLEY INSTRUCTION, THE CENTRAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS WILL BE HOLDING MANDATORY ART CLASSES FOR ALL MILITARY PERSONNEL. THESE CLASSES ARE DESIGNED TO DEVELOP TEAM BONDS AND LOYALTY BETWEEN TEAM MEMBERS. COLONELS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR CLAIMING A TIME FOR THEIR TEAM TO TAKE THIS COURSE ON EITHER SPETEMBER 18TH, 20TH, 21ST, 25TH, 27TH, OR 29TH. EACH TEAM MUST ATTEND AT LEAST ONE OF THESE CLASSES. FALURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES.

"Fullmetal, do you even know anything about painting?"

Edward frowned. He was already mad that he had to be here, and Roy's condescending tone wasn't exactly lifting his mood. He wasn't looking forward to this assignment at all. _This is a huge waste of time—time I could be spend researching, _he thought at he stared at the blank canvas in front of him. All fifteen people in the room were assigned an easel with one big canvas. Edward's canvas was the only one that was still entirely white.

"Sure I know about painting," Edward said, his voice wavering a bit.

Roy raised one eyebrow. "Really. What do you know?"

"Oh you know," Edward said, scratching the back of his neck. "This is acrylic paint so um, it's composed of iron, barium, zinc and strontium. Acrylic emulsion, polyvinyl acetate and vinyl are in the binders…"

Ed looked up and immediately recognized Roy's expression. It's the same look people gave him when they saw his automail, or when he tells them why his parents aren't traveling with him. It's that awful look of pity—a look that made Edward's cheeks turn red. He hated being pitied. It was almost patronizing the way Roy was looking at him, as if he was some lost child who hadn't got a clue.

In a moment, the expression changed into a look far from sympathetic. Roy burst out laughing. A few military personnel turned their heads to stare at the scene. Roy hunched over laughing, while Ed face turned into a tomato.

"Sir, what on earth are you going on about?" Riza asked, but she was ignored by her hysterical boss. After what seemed to Edward like forever, Roy finally caught his breath.

"Oh God," Roy said, straightening himself up. "That's not painting, Fullmetal. That's the chemical makeup of paint. What I mean is, do you know anything about art—which you obviously don't." Roy shook his head, a small, sad smile on his face. "You've very uneducated indeed."

"Uneducated!? UNEDUCATED!?" Ed screamed. He couldn't believe it. _Uneducated_…that felt worse than being called short by a longshot. "I'm not _uneducated! _I—I could do long division at age five! I can read an entire textbook in an hour! I-I'm a state alchemist, for crying out loud! I'M NOT STUPID!"

By now, mostly everyone was staring at Ed and Roy. Riza's usually stoic expression was now one of shock. Maes Hughes chuckled, muffling the sound with this hand so Edward wouldn't unleash his fury on him instead of Roy. The instructor, a short, plump woman who had done more reading than instructing during the entire class, was now drawn away from her romance novel and focused on the escalating spectacle. The only person who wasn't shamelessly eavesdropping was Vato Falman, who was hard at work painting perfectly parallel lines.

Roy frowned. "I never called you stupid Edward," Roy said, his voice regaining its usual seriousness. "What I meant was that you have been seriously deprived of artistic expression.

"Now don't get me wrong…" Roy said, seeing that Ed was already fuming. "I'm not about to call a state alchemist and member of Mensa stupid, nor am I saying that you have no creative bones in your body. I'd say that alchemy, though scientific, could be seen as somewhat artistic, the way we manipulate elements—but, well, science is a lot different than painting a picture."

"Whatever," Edward said. He threw his paintbrush on the floor and stormed out of the room, slamming the door closed as a child would during a temper tantrum.

With Ed's absence, the room became unusually quiet. Even the sound of Falman's paintbrush strokes had stopped. Roy started to feel a little uncomfortable under everyone's glare.

"He's sensitive," Maes said, breaking the thick tension. "Even though he acts like he isn't most of the time. You have to remember that, Roy."

Roy snorted. "I didn't do anything wrong. I was just pointing out that book smarts isn't everything." He tried to pass himself off as casual, but in reality, he wasn't feeling so confident.

"You shouldn't have laughed at him," Havoc said. "Sure, he can be a bit naive…and overly sensitive…and a bit of a pain in the ass…"

"But you shouldn't have laughed," Riza said.

Roy ran his fingers through his long bangs. "I guess this means I have to apologize?"

"Now would be an appropriate time."

Roy sighed and grabbed his jacket.

"Tell the instructor, whatsherame, that I'll be back in twenty."

Edward sat on the staircase, watching the uniformed military members pass him by. He rarely ever felt stupid, but Roy laughing at him for being ignorant—well, that made him feel..

_Stupid_, he thought. _If I'm not smart, than there's nothing impressive about me at all._

"Edward?" a familiar voice said. Ed turned around and saw Roy walking down the steps towards him. Ed stuffed his face in his arms. He didn't want Roy to see how upset he made him. _I'm so stupid, acting this torn up about everything._

"Ed," Roy said as he sat now next to his subordinate. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just—you should know that there's more to life than this." Roy looked down at his gloved hands. "It took a long time for me to figure that out. I know it's hard to believe, but I used to be even more career-obsessed than I am now. Then my Mother brought me with her to one of her painting classes. The work the students were doing was amateur at best, but the pieces the instructor brought in—they were exquisite. She had this huge painting of a decrepit tree. If you looked close enough at the branches, you could see names painted in cursive. Some of the branches were intact—just barely staying alive—while others branches and names had broken off. She named the piece 'Family Tree.' It was beautiful in its perfectly flawed way. It made me realize just how little about beauty I know.

"I started painting after that. I've only shown Maes my work, but if you were interested, I could show you."

Ed unburied his head from his arms. "It probably all sucks anyway."

Roy smiled. "Well, I'm not a great artist myself, but I'm glad I can appreciate people who are."

Ed kicked the concrete step with his heal. "Well…I guess my knowledge is a little…limited in that area. I'll take a look."

"Great," Roy said, placing a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Although, if you want to look at work that doesn't—how did you so eloquently phrase it? 'Suck'? Then I suggest you check out Major Armstrong's drawings."

"Armstrong draws?" Ed said, surprised.

"Apparently the artistic gene has been passed down for generations."

They both stared at eachother, then burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh together, out of humor instead of meanness.

Roy lifted himself up. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "Let go back inside before they court marshal us."


End file.
